


Nothing By Half

by PoppyAlexander



Series: Johnlock ficlets [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, John's drinking, M/M, Men of a Certain Age, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Consider John Watson, a man of a certain age, with five drinks in him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing By Half

Consider, if you will, John Watson, a man of a certain age, having had a whiskey at the bar while waiting for his dinner date (takes forever with that hair, adjusting his cuffs. . .though always well worth it), then two generous glasses of wine with dinner (they always split a bottle, never evenly).

Consider John Watson lying face to face in bed with his date (god, he smells like a church and his legs go on  _forever_ ) an hour after coffee with not one, not two, but _three_ liqueurs in it (a bit too sweet, he didn’t finish it), and to his endless gratitude--if not still to his endless wonder that he should even be allowed the privilege--his date deigns, welcomes, begs for John Watson’s hands here, and yes here, oh god yes just there, did you just pinch me? do it again, and so John Watson pinches and caresses and pets his fill of the lean, freckled frame that never seems to quite manage stillness (his constant, needy squirming as much an aphrodisiac as it is a challenge to quiet).

Consider John Watson’s greedy kisses. Consider John Watson’s muscular, wiry-haired thigh thrust there between those long pale ones. Consider John Watson muttering  _Yeah. . .ah yeah. . .yeah._  . .

Consider John Watson, a man of a certain age, with five drinks in him.

And now, if you will, consider his date, hell bent on always solving the puzzle, winning for the side of righteousness, and (in different but no less tantalizing circumstances) watching John Watson’s improbably enormous cock spurt copiously across his own hand, onto his taut thigh or his concave belly, sticky dew droplets clinging to the dark trail of hair between his navel and his prick. Consider that John Watson’s date is nothing if not tenacious. Consider that his hands are wide and long, with soft palms and callused fingertips. Consider that his plush, pink lips were designed by angels--simply (exquisitely) just  _made_  to suck cock. Consider that he has never in his life heard a sound more arousing than John Watson’s thick groan as he is taken in hand, or between wet lips. Consider that John Watson’s date does nothing by half-measures.

What might we deduce?


End file.
